


I Am The Shadow

by raainthehouse



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Assassin's Galore, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Naive Original Character, POV Female Character, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strong Female Characters, The Avengers - AU, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 05:14:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raainthehouse/pseuds/raainthehouse
Summary: Ryan Sustany is the only child of one of the world's most influential and powerful men. She seems weak and average to the world's eyes, a simple-minded girl, who was unfortunately born into a life invisible under her father's shadow. No one really knows who she is, or what she's actually capable of.Kill or capture. That's her mantra, her duty. That's all she knows. She is her father's protector. The most skilled and feared and anonymous fighter in the world.She is The Shadow.When a mission goes astray, she has to decide if she wants to stay under her father's reign or figure out a life of her own.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Marvel AU where Steve, Bucky, Natasha, Sam, and Tony are assassins working together to take down the world's most dangerous and powerful people. They all have the same skill sets and resources they had in the Marvel movies. (Steve is Captain America, Bucky is The Winter Soldier, Natasha is Black Widow, Sam is The Falcon, and Tony is Iron Man)
> 
> This is only the second thing I've ever written so I'd love some feedback!!
> 
> This is pretty short and just a prologue to what I'm hoping is going to transform into a long action-packed story. There is going to be a ton of build-up to any relationship the OC has so be patient!! 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy :)

People knew Jonathan Sustany had a daughter, but that's probably one of the only things they knew about me. They knew my name, Ryan Sustany, and they knew I was the quiet, average-looking girl who stood in the background of her father's life. People felt sorry for me. They knew I wasn’t allowed to travel outside of my father's facility because I would probably be captured or killed or held for ransom to hold leverage against him. He was a rich, powerful man in a very dangerous world. 

What people couldn’t see, and would never see, was who I actually was, his personal, violent, errand jockey. I was the most prestigious and skilled fighter in my father's entourage, trained from as soon as I could walk to be invisible. Before you even knew I was there, you’d be dead, or captured, or injured, or hung from the ceiling. 

At 25 years old, my arsenal of skills ranged from A to Z. I could take down a human that was 3 times larger than me in 5 seconds, katana swords felt like extensions of my arms, I could fly any plane better than any fighter pilot of any time period, a gun in my hands meant immediate death to my target, I was fluent in more than 10 languages, I knew human anatomy so well I could confidently peel apart a body within an inch of life to get information, and most importantly, I could disappear at a moment's notice. 

Lots of powerful people wanted my father dead but no one could get to him, through me.

I was notorious. I was dangerous. I didn’t feel human anymore. I only felt violence, confidence, and patience. My sole purpose in life was to kill or capture. I was a weapon. I was an enigma.

I was The Shadow. 

Anyone who knew of The Shadow knew no details of who they actually were. They didn’t know if they were male or female, they didn’t know where they came from, and they couldn't distinguish any of their features. Anyone who they got close enough to see, would be dead or knocked out within the following seconds. They didn’t know it was Jonathan’s quiet, average-looking daughter. 

The rest of my father's entourage hardly spoke to me. Partly because I didn’t speak to them, and partly because they were apprehensive of the skills I possessed. Some of them trained me as a child, and since fighting was the only thing I was exposed to, I soaked up everything they taught me, quickly overpowering and altering their training into my own techniques. 

I was desperate to please my father in any way he desired to gain his respect. He wanted a son, so I gave him the closest thing I could think of. A soldier. As I got older, I proved time and time again that even though I was a girl, I was not weak. I was not a burden. I was capable. 

And I fucking loved it. 

I loved the way people shrank as soon as they saw The Shadow, immediately knowing their fate. I loved learning new skills and feeding my hunger for dominance and power. Was that unhealthy? Potentially. But I didn’t let it stop me.

When I wasn’t killing or capturing, I was researching skills to add to my arsenal. My room at my father’s facility had a wall with bookshelves spanning its entirety. It was filled with mechanical manuals, books with fighting and historic battle techniques, and my personal favorites, weapons encyclopedias. 

A separate wall in my room could slide open, revealing all the different weapons and ammunition my father gifted to me over the years. 

I had pistols, assault rifles, sniper rifles, shotguns, grenade launchers, grenades, bows and arrows, throwing stars, tasers, knives, swords, shields, mace, grappling hooks, batons, flash grenades, smoke grenades, gas masks, etc. Each category of weapon had a multitude of different options available, all locked into the wall, only able to be taken with a retinal scan of my own eyes.

Different types of drugs and poisons filled the drawers that lined the bottom of the wall. I was also very skilled at creating concoctions that could either kill someone or put them to sleep or cause their entire body to feel like it was burning. I had more natural substances like water hemlock, deadly nightshade, white snakeroot, and castor bean (ricin), at my disposal, as well as more potent items such as chloroform, morphine, fentanyl, etc. 

Every time I slid open that wall, a wide, cocky smile would take over my face. Arrogance washed over my features and poise would take over. I was an elitist. I was the best. I wasn’t the quiet, average-looking girl in the background of my father's life. 

I was The Shadow. 

I didn’t feel average when I set out to kill or capture for my father. The black clothing I wore silenced all notions of weakness I had to portray when I stood beside him. No one could know that I was The Shadow. Ryan Sustany and The Shadow were two separate entities. 

Ryan Sustany was the girl who stood with her eyes downcast, hands clasped in front of her. Ryan Sustany had to exude weakness and fragility and femininity. She could not portray any semblance of who she actually was. She was just a simple-minded daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world. 

The Shadow was not that girl. The Shadow was me. I was smart, silent, and dark. I made no noise as I snuck up on my victims. My eyes bored into their soul as I tore the life out of their body, watched as their blood stained the ground, and listened as the last noise they would ever make escaped their lips. I was ruthless. I did the job. 

My mission was to kill or capture, no questions asked. 

My father had a new mission for me. There was an assassin who had plans to abduct him and it was my job to find him before he was able to get to my father. 

This was a kill mission. My favorite.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)

I got out of the shower and blow-dried my hair. I pulled my clothes out of the closet and placed them on the bed next to the small array of general weapons I always took with me, no matter the mission. 

My favorite pistol, equipped with a silencer, 5 throwing stars, sticky gloves, a grappling hook, and my dagger. The dagger had a jade green blade and a clear hilt, the only one of my weapons that weren't black. My father had gifted it to me on my 10th birthday after he pulled it off the body of the only assassin who had ever managed to break into his facility. 

It served as a reminder that I had to always serve and protect my family from those who wanted to hurt us. 

Turning to my mirror, I stared at the woman looking back at me. Standing at about 5’7, I was slightly taller than your average woman, with big, brown, curly hair that laid wild, the length falling right above my shoulders. My pale skin was flooded with freckles that cloaked most of the scars on my face I received early on in my career when I wasn’t as skilled as I am now. 

When I was 15, a man split the skin open through my right eyebrow as he punched me. I had accidentally shown myself too soon. I made sure he suffered when I killed him.

When I was 17, a man swung at me wildly with his knife, catching my left cheek from my cheekbone to the corner of my mouth when I couldn't move out of his reach fast enough. I made sure to give him a matching scar with that same knife when I captured him. 

And when I was 18, a woman clawed at me, cutting open my bottom lip with her weaponized nails. I made sure to use pliers to take that nail as a souvenir before I killed her. 

My eyes stared back at me, blue-green, intense, and calculating, void of emotion. The color was something that could identify me so I opted for black contacts each time I went on a mission. 

I was built strong, but still lean enough to not call attention to myself when I stood next to my father as Ryan. Jonathan’s daughter had no reason to be muscular. 

Turning away, I grabbed my clothes and got myself dressed. It was 11:45 am, almost time for me to start the mission.

I wore black boots, black cargo pants, and a black long-sleeved T-shirt with a hood to hide my hair. I put in my black contacts, holding off on the rest of my disguise, and surveyed my appearance.

Smart, silent, and dark. Perfect. It was time. 

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting as I rode the elevator up to my father’s floor. This mission came on rather abruptly as I usually had a few weeks to gather intel on my target, instead of the one day it took my father to order me to travel the 5 hours to Manhattan. 

He had given me minimal information regarding who exactly I was going to kill. All I knew was that he was an assassin. I had killed those before, so I was confused when my father almost seemed nervous as he handed me the file containing what he knew of this person. 

**Name: James Buchanan Barnes (The Winter Soldier)**  
**Description: White Male - Shoulder Length Brown Hair - Blue eyes - Approximately 6’4 - 200 lbs**  
**Age: Approximately 35**  
**Kill Count: 100+**  
**Location: Avengers Tower, 200 Park Ave, Manhattan, NY, 10166**

**BE ADVISED: METAL APPENDAGE (left arm)**

I studied the photos my father’s spies had taken of this “Winter Soldier”. He seemed like a rather generic assassin, but metal appendage? That was interesting, I’ve never had to kill anyone who was more than flesh and bones. No matter. I was up for the challenge. I was getting bored with the usual targets anyways. 

I grabbed the green drink my father made me drink each day and rode down to the garage and chose my favorite car. It was already stocked with multiple silenced assault and sniper rifles and enough ammo to take out an entire office building. In the side compartments, there were flash/smoke/and generic grenades, along with a few of my katana swords. The jacked-up black 4runner roared to life as I peeled out of the basement. 

\-----

It was starting to get dark as I sipped on the last of my drink and pulled up to the tower where this Winter Soldier apparently resided. I checked the clock, 4:57 pm, and assessed the surrounding areas. There was a tall building directly in front of the tower which could serve as a perfect area to scope out my target. Two smaller buildings stood on either side of the tower; people were moving in and out so my escape route could potentially be compromised if I moved at the wrong time. 

I parked two blocks away, threw on my hood, grabbed my “toolbox” from the car, and made my way to the building that was across from the tower. As I walked between them, a huge, white, blond man and a short, white, red-headed woman walked into the tower where my target resided. The word Bucky read off his lips as they disappeared into the building.

What the Hell is a Bucky?

I entered the building labeled, “Heimdall Sees All [Lasik, Contacts, and More]” and strode to the elevator. Alone, I grabbed my black face mask and charcoal. I spread the charcoal everywhere above my mask, but below my eyebrows, leaving only my pale, freckled forehead clean. I glanced at my reflection in the metal elevator. Black eyes stared at me. Damn, I loved this look. 

Deciding to go all the way to the roof for a better vantage point, I stepped out into the cold. The wind bit at my skin but I ignored it as I went to the edge and opened up my “toolbox”.

Inside was my father's creation, a sniper rifle that could be taken apart and rebuilt. It was completely customizable and easy to assemble, and my favorite weapon. It allowed me to go completely stealth, you wouldn’t even know I had the scope trained in between your eyes before you were dead. 

I checked my watch, 5:14 pm, and set up my shot. I didn’t know at all where this Winter Soldier was, so I checked every window pane up and down the building, spending 5 seconds peering into each one. 

The blond man showed up on floor 48 with that red-haired woman, but now they were standing with a smaller, white, black-haired man with an interesting goatee. Then, a large, black man walked into the room, and he was motioning to someone behind him. A huge, white, brown-haired man walked in after him. Oh, yes. There he is.

Finger on the trigger, I let out a slow breath. Wait. If this Winter Soldier is an assassin, I have to assume these other people he’s with were also dangerous. And if they weren't stupid, the windows were probably bulletproof. I was capable enough facing one assassin, but 5? I wasn’t so sure.

I let out a small huff, glanced at my watch, 5:56 pm, and kept watching them. The room they’re in doesn't have manual doors, they slide open when someone gets near. Oh, what’s this? The man with the goatee motioned with his hand and an elaborate design projected out of nowhere. It moved with his hands, getting bigger and smaller and moving side to side with each swipe. Huh. That’s pretty high-tech. None of the others look too surprised this was happening so they must be used-

At that same moment, every person in the room turned and stared directly at me on the roof. What the fuck. They shouldn’t be able to see me. I stopped breathing, nervous for the first time in a very long time. I didn’t dare move. They moved closer to the window, immediately alert, and stared directly into my scope. How the fuck were they doing that, they literally can’t know I’m here- 

In an instant, the huge blond, small redhead, and my target ran out of the room. The man with the goatee tapped his chest and it looked like metal started materializing onto his clothing? The black man threw both arms sideways and, oh my God, were those metal wings?

Okay, who- no WHAT the fuck were these people. 

I immediately aborted the mission, throwing my sniper off its stand. I quickly took it apart and shoved it into my toolbox. Yelling drew my attention to their roof and I glanced up at it, seeing three figures running towards the edge. The blond and my target lept? Off the roof? Were they crazy, they can’t jump that far? And even if they did, the fall would seriously injure them. 

The redhead shot what looked like a grappling hook/zip line in my direction and it made contact with the tall lightning rod at the center of my building. She also lept off the roof. 

I stumbled as I turned, possibly- no, probably in shock, to see the glass pane where I was just looking through open up and the goateed man, oh my God, also jumped out of the window. He was now completely encapsulated in metal and he started flying? 

The man with the wings also lept out and went into a nose dive towards me while the metal man followed. 

Two grunts recaptured my attention and I turned again to face the huge blond and my target rolling out of their fall. They stood gracefully, not a scratch on them. That’s impossible. The redhead released her zip line and rolled out of her fall just as gracefully as she stood up beside them. The other two flying men came to a halt near the door that led to the elevator, sealing off my only chance of escaping. 

For the first time in my entire life, I felt screwed. 

Each one of these people seemed to have their own brand of confidence. 

The goateed, metal man dropped down to the ground, his face mask lifted and he stared at me, giving me a once over, eyes settling on the dagger sheathed at my hip. His eyes held an intriguing look like he was trying to figure out why I wasn’t acknowledging them. 

The man with the wings was slowly circling around me, his wings hanging loosely at his sides. He had a smug smile on his face that made me hot with anger. He looked like an arrogant bastard. 

The blond man looked at me with an inflated sense of self-importance. Like it was his duty to be here. Like he was doing his due diligence by arresting me. Pompous, stuck-up asshole. 

The woman looked the most like me. I could tell she was well trained by the way her eyes glided over me, searching, dying for a weak point to exploit. She was smaller than me, but I sure as shit wasn’t going to underestimate her. She also had that intrigued look on her face. 

And lastly, my target looked at me with familiarity? He looked like he was on the edge of saying something, but was biting his tongue. Why was he looking at me like that?

“Alright sweetheart, want to tell us why you had that sniper trained on our window?” The metal man finally spoke up. 

I didn’t answer. 

“You know who we are right? I don't know why you would think that we wouldn’t know you were trained on us,” the winged man said. 

I bit my tongue. I didn’t know these people at all, why would I? 

“Bucky, look at what she’s wearing on her face,” the blond one glanced at my target, a look of recognition shared between them. 

Again with the “Bucky”, what is that?

“Yea, I was about to say...” my target trailed off. I fully turned to look at the blond man, and before I could stop myself, 

“What the hell is Bucky?” My voice came out low and raspy from lack of use.

The blond man let out a loud, surprising laugh that made me jump. What the fuck man. The confusion on my face must have triggered something because the metal man took a step forward,

“Do you really not know who we are?” 

I slowly shook my head, “should I?”

Now it was their turn to be shocked. Each one looked at me like I had grown two heads. I didn’t have a chance to say anything else before I felt something latch onto my neck. I clamped down on it with my hand before a massive shock of electricity coursed through my body, and I hit the floor. Right before the shock knocked me out, I noted my face felt sore from the use it was getting. That much emotion hadn't crossed it in decades.


	3. Chapter 3

“FRIDAY couldn’t find her face in any database.”  
“She can’t be completely human, her eyes are literally black.”  
“Sam, I think she’s wearing contacts.”  
“You don’t know that! She doesn’t know who we are, she can’t be from Earth.”  
“She’s dressed almost exactly the same as Bucky when he was the Winter Soldier, she HAS to be playing us, she knows who we are.”  
“I dunno man, it’s hard to fake that kind of confusion.”  
“I wonder what her name is.”

They didn’t know I was awake yet and I planned on keeping it that way for as long as pos- 

“Mr. Stark, the prisoner is awake,” a mechanical, female voice spoke. What the fuck. 

Someone tapped on what sounded like glass, 

“Hey sweetheart, you can’t fool FRIDAY. Are you human or what?”

God damnit. I slowly opened my eyes and let my head fall towards them. The room I was in had three white walls and one glass one. The contacts made my vision blurry from sleeping in them so I pinched them out of my eyes feeling angry and embarrassed that these people had captured me. I sat up on the cot and turned towards them, back against the wall, taking them all in. 

**TONY**  
I knew her eyes weren’t actually black, I’ll have FRIDAY rescan her face. She looks so fucking angry. The black shit on her face spread everywhere, and she looks like she wants to kill us. I wonder who she works for and what her skillset looks like… 

**SAM**  
Damn. I wanna spar with her for some reason. I feel like she can kick my ass but she can’t be more than 25ish. Why did she think she could take us out from that rooftop? All our enemies know we have sensors on every roof facing our building. 

**NATASHA**  
She looks like she could hold her own in the Red Room. Sheesh. I wanna spar with her. 

**STEVE**  
Who does this girl think she is? Thinking we wouldn't know she was up there, who was she aiming at? Who does she work for? Does she work for HYDRA? Why was she dressed like Bucky?

 **BUCKY**  
Whoa, blue eyes. Are those scars? She doesn't look so much like me without that mask. I feel like I should get her something to wipe that shit off her face. Why was she dressed like me? Did HYDRA get a hold of her too? 

**RYAN**  
I wish they would all stop staring at me. They didn’t shut up before, why aren’t they talking now?

Playing it safe was my best bet at getting information from them. I knew who my target was but I was still curious as to why they insisted I should know them.

“So-” my voice was so rough. Ugh. I cleared my throat and started again, “so, who exactly are you guys?”

The black man spoke first, “I’m Sam Wilson, also known as The Falcon. Your eyes are too damn pretty for you to be staring at me like that.” Oh, yea. He’s dying first. It’s decided.

The redhead spoke next, “I’m Natasha Romanoff, or Black Widow,” she offered a small smile. I didn’t reciprocate. 

The pompous blond said, “I’m Steve Rogers, Captain America,” I scoffed, of course that's his alias. He scowled at me.

My target spoke up next, “I’m Sergeant James Barnes, The Winter Soldier. You wanted to know what a Bucky was, so I’m your answer. It’s my nickname,” his voice sounded like honey. His eye color almost matched mine. 

Finally, “and I’m Tony Stark, better known as Iron Man. We’re the Avengers sweetheart,” he said. They all looked at me. Expectantly. 

“That doesn’t mean anything to me.” It really didn’t spark any sort of recognition in my brain. 

They all silently stared again, it was making me uncomfortable.

“Do you live under a rock?” Sam asked me. 

“No...” not knowing what the big deal was. 

Tony fake fainted into Steve’s arms, “Oh my God, you’re killin’ me sweetheart-”

“Stop fucking calling me sweetheart, _Iron Man_ ,” I sneered out. 

Sam whistled, “there's the personality.” I rolled my eyes, unamused. 

“Sorry _whoever you are_ , I’m not sure what to call you since I can’t find you in any database,” Tony started. 

“Mr. Stark, with the new scan of her face I have found a 79% match. Ryan Isabelle Sustany, daughter of Jonathan Zolida Sustany of the company ‘Zola’s Finance's’.” Oh no, the thing they called FRIDAY just said my name. How did it make that connection? The anxiety started closing in.

What if they figured out I was The Shadow and exposed me?  
What if they used me for ransom?  
Demand my father come here to rescue me?  
What are they going to do with my information?

The jumble of thoughts were silenced when everyone's face shifted for just a second, just a glimpse of recognition passed through before they shielded back up with indifference. Oh God, they were all in on abducting my father. Why didn't he tell me that?

I didn’t have a chance to digest that before Natasha spoke up,

“You look nothing like the girl in this picture.” She pulled up a picture of me and my father on a tablet and showed the group. I forced down the questions that were attempting to bubble out of my throat, trying to focus on the now. The tablet was see-through and the picture she was showing really didn’t do me justice. My father made me straighten my hair and put on heavy makeup in an attempt to cover my scars and make myself look as different as possible. 

I bet I looked like a hot mess right now with all this shit on my face. At least I still had my hood up.

“Ryan, take off your hood,” Tony called out to me. 

Jesus Christ, these people seemed to know everything that was going on in my head. I didn’t move.

“Ryan, we aren’t going to hurt you. Do you want something to wipe the charcoal off your face?” My target- Bucky asked me. His face held no trace of the recognition he showed before and he seemed genuine in his question.

I gave him a slow nod. He quickly dashed away, returning a second later with some wet wipes in his hand. He pressed a button on the glass and a small portion of it opened up. I slowly stood up and walked over, reaching out for them. 

I faltered at his metal hand. It was peeking out from his long sleeve shirt, all silver and mechanical. The metal plates of his hand made a soft whirring noise as they moved. He cleared his throat and I realized I was staring. I glanced back up at his face and he looked uncomfortable as I snatched away the wet wipes.

As I wiped my face free of the charcoal, Tony spoke to me again,

“Will you lower your hood now, we want to get a good look at you.”

They already knew who I was so I might as well seal the deal. I looked at my reflection in the window to make sure all the black was gone before I slowly pulled down my hood. My hair bounced up as the curls sprang free and fell down to my shoulders, the shorter pieces falling onto my forehead. 

I lifted my chin a fraction of an inch and narrowed my eyes as they all stared at me. 

“I know I have scars on my face, it’s rude to stare,” I spat out.

“That’s not why they’re staring,” Natasha smirked. I rolled my eyes and stalked back to the wall, sinking down with aggravation. 

I didn’t know why they hadn’t killed me yet. 

“Alright Ryan, want to tell us why you were up on that rooftop last night?” Tony asked.

I opted for silence. If my father found out I exposed him he’d surely… well actually I didn’t know. I’ve never failed a mission before. My anxiety started creeping again, I didn’t like how out of place I felt. 

Bucky whispered to Tony, “she’s not going to talk with all of us standing here watching her.”

After a few heartbeats, Tony said, “it’s fine if you don’t talk, we’ll just keep you here until you do.” 

They slowly departed, leaving Bucky alone, soft eyes trained on me. I held his gaze, but I already felt more at ease with just him. He crouched down to be on my level, 

“Honestly Ryan, we’re not going to hurt you or torture you for information or anything. We’re not those kinds of people, but Tony is unhappy that a sniper was trained on us. He just wants to know the reason so he can fix it. He’s really protective of us.” 

That sentiment pulled at my heartstrings. No one really cared for me or my safety. Those few times I came home bloody, my father simply dismissed me to my room to patch myself up. No tender touches or comforting words. No protective tendencies. 

He stood up slowly and turned to leave. Before I could stop myself, 

“You.” The word hung in the air and he froze. 

“What?”

“...you, not them. You were my target.” 

I didn’t know what compelled me to tell him. This whole situation was completely out of my comfort zone and realm of expertise. I had zero ideas of what to do if I was captured. I’m sure telling my target he was the person I was supposed to kill probably wasn’t the best idea, but he seemed… different. Genuine. 

_Understanding._

Some weak, unstable, evil part of my brain yearned for companionship and camaraderie. This really was a lonely fucking job. As much as I loved it, I still felt a huge hole in my chest when I heard other tenants in my father’s facility talk about their weekends or their spouses or their lives. 

I was 25 and didn't have any friends.

Everyone steered clear of me because I was Jonathan's daughter. They knew not of my alias, The Shadow, but my father being who he was, was enough for people to draw a wide berth around me. 

Sometimes, I wanted out. Sometimes, I wanted more. Sometimes, I just wanted a damn _hug._

This man made me feel like that was something attainable.

But I could never allow those feelings to consume me. They were only allowed to live in my head. This was the only life available to me. The only one I was destined to have. 

As I told Bucky I was the one tasked to kill him, and all his eyes showed me were _understanding_ and _empathy,_ those feelings _dangerously_ threatened to move out of the home they had nestled into the corner of my head. 

“I was your target? Do you know why I was your target?”

I gave him a slow nod, despite the fact I was basically betraying my father, despite the fact that I barely knew this man. 

“Why was I your target?”

"He knew you were after him, but not all of you. He wanted _you_ dead, so he sent me to kill you," I couldn't stop myself from trusting him little by little, he was so _genuine._

Bucky was silent for a beat, confusion cocking his head to the side. It looked like he wanted to ask me something, but was unsure of the right words. Finally, with a teasing edge, he said, 

"Why would he send _you,_ his _daughter,_ instead of a proper hitman.”

I balked. My previously trusting expression immediately hardened with enough anger he stood up a little straighter and took a defensive stance like I was about to charge at him through the glass. It didn't matter he was teasing, I would never allow my skillset to be downplayed. The hard exterior that he was starting to melt iced back over. The Shadow took hold of my actions. She shoved down all notions of independence and warm thoughts of the honey-voiced man. _No one_ underestimated me. 

“You don’t think I’m a _proper_ hitman?” I spat out. “The only reason you’re alive is because you and your weird friends have super high tech that somehow knew I was staring at the sweet spot in-between your eyes. You don’t even know who I really am. If you knew, you wouldn’t be saying those things out of fear for your life.” My voice had gone low and deadly serious as I stood up and stalked towards him, “If I wasn’t trapped in this glass box, I’d be on you before you had a chance to feel your heart pulse for the last time. Those pretty blue eyes would be my trophies, on display for the whole world to see that a little _fucking_ girl was able to take down the Winter _fucking_ Soldier. Do _not_ underestimate me, unless you have a death wish.” 

With the glass separating us, our faces were only inches apart, his ridged with shock and confusion, mine hard with anger. He needed to know that I wasn’t afraid to face him, I was capable and ruthless and determined and-

“You think my eyes are pretty?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking about changing this story to 3rd person perspective.... 1st person is easier to write for me but Ryan's character is growing more complex as I keep writing her so I'm questioning my 1st person decision.
> 
> Let me know what you guys think!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy!

After Bucky left, the fatigue started closing in. There weren’t any windows facing outside so I had no idea what time it was or whether it was daytime or nighttime. I felt a little… weird but nothing I couldn’t get over. No sharp pain or injuries in my body, but a certain weakness and fragility was there. 

I didn’t want to fall asleep, I had no idea what they would do to me if I did, so I started pacing diagonally from one corner to the other. After I decided that renaming each weapon I owned wasn’t distracting me from that foreign feeling I was experiencing, I focused on each step I was taking. I was on diagonal number 90, each time I reached the corner with the glass pane, I let the back of my right hand lightly tap it. It sent a small vibration throughout the wall and the sound was comforting. 

_tap, 91… tap, 92… tap, 93…_

Of course, my mind wandered. It was riddled with _him_ and his stupid response to my threat. Who did he think he was? A normal man would cower at the sheer certainty in my words, not… flirt? I shook my head at the thought, flirt? No, he wasn't flirting… 

_tap, 94… tap, 95… tap, 96…_

It seemed like Bucky and the _Captain_ weren’t normal men though… a normal man could not survive a jump from one roof to another like they did, or they would have devastating injuries. I knew Bucky had some alterations considering his arm, but I didn’t know to what extent. Their bodies looked about the same, a mass of muscle with an intriguing grace to it. Someone that size should not be able to move as they did. It was like they were moving through water, all fluid and smooth.

_tap, 97… tap, 98… tap, 99…_

Bucky’s body did seem slightly more… rough around the edges. He was just as sure in his movements, but he walked a little lopsided, I guess his metal arm was heavier than his flesh one. His shoulders were broader than the Captain’s, and his waist wider, but his face was just as chiseled and angular. One could say attractive, if not in my situation. His eyes were a similar shade of blue, but they held a sort of… pain. And suffering. And… empathy? Empathy. Like he was trying to relate to me. Like he was trying to get into my head and tell me that my life could be better, that I could have more-

A wave of nausea and dizziness kicked the back of my knees, sending me to the ground. A low groan escaped my lips as my skin was set aflame, goosebumps riddling my entire body. Fever. I had a fever? On my hands and knees, a gag racked my throat. I didn’t have anything to throw up except the green drink and it spewed all over the ground by my hands. God, that’s gross. My last thought as descended into unconsciousness was how disappointed I was that I didn’t make it to 100…

\----

I knew something was different immediately. The cot I was laying on wasn’t the one in my room. It was a thousand times more comfortable and the pillow under my head was thick and I was sunk down into it. Man, it almost felt like my bed at home-

I shot up with a start, and the number, “100” croaked out, only to fall back gracelessly when all the blood rushed away from my head. A low groan left my lips and tears, oh my God Ryan, really, _tears_ formed under my eyelids. I felt like _garbage._ The weakness I felt in my prison was still there, but so much worse. My head was pounding with what felt like a migraine and I didn’t think my hand could clench into a fist if I tried-

My wrists and ankles were strapped down. I fought for a moment, panic rising in my chest when a soft voice sounded to my right.

“Hello, Ryan. My name is Dr. Helen Cho.”

Slowly, I cracked my eyes open and glanced at the voice. The doctor was looking at me with a sort of pity and worry I wasn’t used to. It was almost like she was concerned. That’s a first…

She was just a doctor, hopefully, so I figured she probably wasn’t going to hurt me.

“What happened?” My voice came out raspy as all Hell and cracked at the end of the word happened. God, I'm pathetic.

“Well Ryan, it seems as though your body is starting to reject, or well, starting to crave something. Your health is deteriorating very quickly and I think we just figured out why.”

“We?” I glanced around looking for a second person, but only Dr. Cho was visible. 

“Dr. Banner and I,” she said like I was supposed to know who that was. When I didn’t respond, she looked at me with confusion before it cleared.

“Ah yes, Tony told me you didn’t know much about the Avengers. Dr. Bruce Banner is a theoretical physicist and the designated Doctor of-”

“Cho, I _told_ you, I’m not that kind of Doctor,” a soft, but firm male voice sounded from somewhere behind my head. I tried to turn and look, but any movement shot waves of nausea through my body. Okay, hopefully, he’s not a threat either. I didn’t have a chance to say anything before a short, kind-looking man appeared at my left. 

“Hi Ryan, you can call me Bruce.” he placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and offered me a small smile, one so genuine my heart ached. A single tear slid down my cheek and he inconspicuously wiped it away before he continued talking.

“So it seems as though your body is lacking a certain substance it’s craving. You’re going through withdrawals. We couldn’t figure out from what, until we tested the green… throw up in your room,” I cringed at that but he kept going, “it contained a substance that we’re all too familiar with, the super-serum that made Steve and James as superhuman as they are. Now the interesting thing is since you’ve apparently been consistently ingesting it, your body is now dependent on it. It’s interesting because Steve and James only got one dose, and they haven’t needed another, unlike you. Also, because it’s a low enough dose, your metabolism doesn’t burn as fast and you don’t _appear_ to have super strength, although we haven’t been able to test that since right now, you’re at your weakest strength. Well, we’re assuming you are.”

Everything seemed to slow down as I processed the information Bruce was saying. I had no idea the green drink my father gave me each morning was anything more than a smoothie, was that why I had such ease taking down my targets? Was it not because of my skills, but this serum? I had no baseline for how much strength a normal person should have. My breaths were starting to become erratic and my hands sweaty. I could see the edges of my vision going spotty. 

“Fortunately, we were able to reformulate the serum for you…” he was starting to notice my reaction as he trailed off, “Ryan, what's wrong?”

“I… I had no idea,” I was crying now, all sense of pride leaving my body as the sobs took over, “my father gave me… would give me that drink every morning.. I didn’t know… I had no idea…” my words became unintelligible as my chest heaved with each sobbing breath. I felt like _shit,_ and my spotty vision was beginning to turn black around the edges. The last thing I remembered was my body convulsing slightly before Bruce placed his gentle hands on my shoulders, hushing me to unconsciousness.

\----

**STEVE**  
_“You want to give her the serum??? Are you INSANE?”_

**BRUCE**  
_“Steve she’s suffering, she said she didn’t know her father was drugging her with it, she had no autonomy in her decision. She’s just a kid...”_

\----

**NATASHA**  
_“What do you think she’s gonna do when she wakes up?”_

**SAM**  
_“I don’t know… I’m kinda hoping she has super strength though, I’d love to see her knock Steve on his ass.”_

\----

A hazy memory of Bucky standing outside the room, concern etched in his face. Tony beside him, brows furrowed.

\---

When I woke up, I wasn’t sure how much time had passed. I had vague lapses of conversations I barely remembered from the people who lived in this tower. Did those actually happen? I tried to wipe the crust away from my eyes, but my wrists were still strapped down. Damnit…

_“I’m kinda hoping she has super strength though…” ___

__

__Super strength… maybe if I-_ _

__

__Before I could think about how ridiculous it sounded, I moved my arm straight up with as much strength as possible, and to my surprise, the thick strap ripped itself from the cot I was on. For a split-second, I stared at the cuff on my wrist. No fucking _way._ In three quick successions I ripped the other wrist free and both my ankles. I tore the IV’s from my arms with a slight wince and pushed myself out of the bed before that mechanical, feminine voice rang out above me,_ _

____

“Ryan, I highly advise you get back into your bed-”

____

I took off before it finished, pushing through the door, and raced down the hallway. Blaring alarms and red lights started flashing above me as I sprinted around random corners and down random staircases, desperately searching for a way out.

____

_Gotta get out, gotta get out, gotta get out_

____

I _finally_ found a window to the outside and saw it was dark outside, perfect. I didn’t recognize the view so I assumed I was on the opposite side of the Tower from where they first captured me. A short building stood directly across from me, maybe only 7 or 8 stories high.

____

Before I could react, a body slammed me into me from behind, red hair reflecting on the window. Instinct grabbed the hair and I turned and yanked down _hard,_ the body slamming to the floor with a grunt. Natasha looked up at me with fire and amusement in her eyes as she quickly spun on the floor, swiping my legs out from underneath me. I fell with a graceless _oof_ and was eye to eye with her. Neither of us moved for a millisecond before she opened her mouth to say something and I smashed my forehead into her nose with a sickening _crack,_ rendering her unconscious.

____

Foreign guilt tugged at my stomach as I looked at her bloody face before I pushed it aside and threw the door open to the stairs. I thought for a second about just leaping through the window down to that short building, but didn’t think I should be testing my abilities while trying to escape from apparently, world-famous assassins.

____

When I reached the tenth floor, hope itched at my brain, until it was shattered by the wall to my left exploding. It threw me down the staircase, tumbling and rolling until I hit the wall with astonishing force, my head cracking against the cement. Yet another low groan fell from my lips as cold air hit my body. I looked up at the metal man- Tony- hovering through the wall he just exploded.

____

“Sweetheart, you really shouldn’t run from us-” he narrowly dodged the piece of cement I hurled at his head. I was starting to blackout again but I was _so_ close to escaping, I wouldn’t let myself succumb to it.

____

With a dizzying step, I forced myself upright onto my feet, I wouldn’t go back without a fight. My mouth parted to spit at him until he dropped to the stairs in front of me and stepped out of his suit. It really was amazing how it formed to his body and how fluid it was even though it was metal. I admired it, _God, I think I’m concussed,_ before he started moving towards me. 

____

“Ryan… I know you don’t trust us, but we don’t want to hurt you. We just want to help."

____

“Why do I need your help? I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself-"

____

“I know you are. You proved that when you knocked out Natasha in about 3 seconds, she’s our best at hand-to-hand contact,” a smirk formed at that, “but I don’t believe you’re living in ideal conditions."

____

I didn’t understand what he meant but he kept going,

____

“You understand that your father was drugging you right? Against your own knowledge. He’s _using_ you for his own personal gain,” he was slowly moving towards me, 8 feet away, “I think that you think that’s all you’re good for,” 5 feet, “but you’re not. You are your own person.” 3 feet away and he stopped. He slowly reached his hand out, I could grab it if I wanted to.

____

“We, well everyone except Steve,” I scoffed at that, “think you deserve something better. I know who you are.” I froze. No. he can’t know-

____

“You are The Shadow,” _fuck_ , “and you have quite an impressive skill set, and that’s coming from me,” again, he got that knowing look, like that sentiment should mean something to me. It didn’t.

____

“How did you find out?” My voice was nothing more than a whisper and it surprised me at how sluggish it sounded. My head was starting to pound.

____

“I have my ways. What I need you to do now, is take my hand,” he raised it a little more, “and come with me. Stop running, we can show you-”

____

Before he had a chance to finish, I gently slid my hand into his. His face broke out into surprising relief before I squeezed it hard enough to break his metacarpal bones with sickening cracks. Astonished, he yelped out before I yanked his hand down, bringing my knee straight up into his descending jaw, snapping his head back before he crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

____

That foreign guilt crept back in, harsher this time before I looked out the hole he created in the stairwell. The cool air hit my face as I scanned around me, that roof was now about the same distance Bucky and The Captain had jumped to get to me yesterday. My head throbbed, I couldn't make that jump, I can’t risk it-

____

Above me, I heard running footsteps in the stairwell. They were coming. Alright, I guess it IS time to test my abilities. I backed up to the wall, I only had about 10 feet of space to take off from. Fuck.

____

Before I could psych myself out, I took off and pushed off as hard as I could, the street below me 10 stories down, the other roof about 7 stories high. My legs ran in the air, I was going to make it, I’m gonna make it-

____

I hit the other roof _hard,_ and rolled about 10 feet before I slammed into the door that led into the top floor of the building. I looked up and couldn’t tell the stars in the sky from the stars in my vision. Back at the hole in the side of the other building, Bucky, Sam, and The Captain appeared and while they were distracted by Tony on the ground, I ducked through the door, slowly closing it behind me.

____

Without looking back, I forced myself down the 7 flights of stairs and burst out into the lobby of the building. It was completely dark and no one was in it as I stumbled to the door and tried to push it open. It was locked and I yelled in frustration. _God, can ANYTHING go my way tonight??_

____

I knew I had to find a way out fast, if they guessed I jumped over to this building they’d be on me in minutes. Hoping there wasn’t an alarm system, I smashed my elbow through the glass door and pulled myself through it, the glass cutting at my torso. Nothing went off to my relief as I raced to my car.

____

Once I got there, I weighed my options while I hot wired it; my keys were somewhere in the tower. I could attempt to drive all the way back to my father’s, but I didn’t think I could make it that far with my concussion. I could look for a ratty hotel nearby and stay hidden for a few days to get them off my scent, I have money stashed in my car. Or, I could ditch the car for a few nights and just hide in the streets with the homeless, sleep off my concussion.

____

The last option was starting to sound like the easiest until a glint of metal reflected in the night. I looked up and Sam was in the sky, most likely scanning the streets for me. The rest of them wouldn’t be too far behind on foot. When he flew out of sight, I searched for a low-rated motel, put it in the GPS, and drove away, slow enough to stay inconspicuous.

____

It was probably the most stressful, anxious 28 minutes of my life before I reached the parking lot of Motel 6. Hastily, I locked myself in the room, stashed a gun under the bed, and hid in the bathtub. 

____

An hour later with no disturbances, I allowed myself to breathe a little deeper, allowed some tension to leave my shoulders. A shower sounded nice.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lil shorty

All lights were off and Die Hard was playing lowly on the TV when someone knocked on the door. I checked my watch, 12:13 am. This couldn’t be good. I didn’t make a move to answer it, and they knocked slightly louder. I grabbed the gun from under the bed and moved slowly to the side of the door, peeking out the peephole. It was Bucky.

____

“Ryan, open the door,” he didn’t sound angry, “I just want to talk. I came alone,” _scoff,_ yeah right, “the others have no idea I left to come see you.”

____

I wasn’t sure how he found me or if I could trust him. He was still my target. Maybe I could overpower him 1 on 1. 

____

Still unsure if I was making the right decision, I slowly cracked open the door, leaving the chain in place. His eyes found mine, all blue and surprised.

____

“How did you find me?”

____

“When we were looking for you, Sam was suspicious of your car. I told him it wasn’t you, that I saw a man get in and start driving. He trusted me and let it go. I tracked your car. That’s it. I just want to talk to you, I’m not going to force you to come back if you don’t want to. Please.”

____

The pleading edge in his voice made it almost impossible to turn him away. I wanted _so_ badly to slam the door in his face but his next words struck me hard,

____

“Look Ryan, no matter if you come back or not, we're still going after your dad in 2 days,” damn, had it really been less than a day, “and I wanted to tell you why.”

____

Okay, this changes things. With one last look, I slammed the door shut. He audibly sighed behind the door and started moving away until I slid the chain over and slowly opened the door.

____

“The only reason I’m letting you in is because you gave me wet wipes. If you were Sam, you’d be dead. If you do anything to tick me off, you’ll be dead.” 

____

My eyes didn’t leave him as he let out a relieved chuckle, the noise causing my mouth to quirk up slightly before I wiped it away. He eyed the gun in my hand, but it didn’t phase him and he walked in and sat on the edge of the bed, looking all too casual for someone who has gotten two death threats from me. 

____

“Speak,” I raised my gun. I wanted him out as quickly as possible. He had no business interrupting my movie…

____

____

“We're going after your dad because our intel says his company has been acting as a front for HYDRA,” he spoke in a rush, seemingly waiting for a reaction.

____

“Am I supposed to know what HYDRA is?” I deadpanned. Seriously, what is up with these guys thinking I know everything?

____

“God, he keeps you in the dark doesn’t he?” 

____

The grip on my gun tightened, I took a step forward, and he tensed up, his hands raised slightly off his thighs, “okay, sorry. What I _meant_ was, if you’re his only daughter, why didn’t you know he was drugging you every day? Why don’t you know what his company’s doing, do you even know why he needs you to be so heavily trained? I mean Jesus, you flattened Natasha Romanoff like it was nothing and you broke Tony Stark’s hand.”

____

The disbelief on his face slowly turned to concern as mine remained unmoving, my hand unshaken. My gun was trained in between his eyebrows, only a foot away. In my head, I was digesting everything he was saying, my eyes giving me away because he didn’t try to speak again. 

____

_Why didn’t he tell me he was drugging me?_  
_Was he afraid of what I would do if I found out?_  
_Was I a test dummy for the serum?_  
_What is HYDRA, and why did Bucky growl out the name?_

____

“What’s HYDRA? And why don’t you like them.”

____

His eyes darkened and his left arm started whirring even though it remained unmoving.

____

“They’re the ones who did this to me,” he motioned at himself, “do you want the long version or the short version because the long version is gonna take me some time-”

____

“Short version,” my patience was running thin. 

____

“Alright. Basically, they kidnapped me and wiped my memory, shot me up with a super serum, replaced my missing arm with this thing, and brainwashed me into their obedient, killing machine. I was their assassin for 50 years-"

____

“50 years? You can’t be more than 30.”

____

“You flatter me, doll. Physically, I’m around 36, but I’ve been alive since March 10th, 1917.”

____

That's impossible-

____

“You’re thinking that’s impossible right? Well, they would put me into cryosleep when they didn’t need me, sometimes for years at a time. I didn’t age when I was under so, here I am.”

____

It didn't make total sense, but I was starting to understand where his empathy was coming from. 

____

“So you’re telling me… people used you to do their dirty work… after they injected you with this super serum?”

____

“That’s right. Just like what your dad is doing to you. And now, we know he’s involved with HYDRA. They believe mankind can’t be trusted with their own freedom, so authoritarianism is pretty much their mission statement. You remember the Nazi’s? Yeah, primarily HYDRA.”

____

“So my father thinks people can’t have their own freedom?” As he watched the gears turn in my head, his body language softened. 

____

“Listen… Ryan-” 

____

_No_

____

“Get out.”

____

“What?”

____

I stepped forward, pressing the gun into his forehead. 

____

_No_

____

“I won't tell you again. Leave. Or I'll kill you.”

____

As I forced him out, his eyes locked with mine one last time, full of worry and pity. 

____

_No_

____

I slammed the door. 

____

_No_

____

My father _can’t_ be involved with that, he wouldn’t do that. Bucky’s lying. I should've shot him, why didn't I shoot him? 

____

_No_

____

My father wouldn’t do that to me, I’m his daughter, his only child.

____

_Then why was he drugging you-_

____

“NO!” I threw the gun at the wall. 

____

_Why doesn’t he tell you anything about the business-_

____

“NO, FUCK,” tears fell down my face.

____

_Why does it all make sense-_

____

“Stop.” 

____

I stopped. All thoughts stopped. No. This isn’t happening. He’s not involved. He can’t be. He _isn’t._

____

He isn’t.

____

I looked out the window, Bucky nowhere to be seen. I checked the time, 12:21 am.

____

Sleep. I need sleep. Then I can go to father. Then, I can get some answers.

____


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok, i am super freakin proud of this chapter
> 
> enjoy!

The sky slowly got brighter at 6:12 am. I was already awake, sleep unable to steadily penetrate the thick fog of anxiety that wrapped around my brain. Although Bucky’s words initially sparked a rebellion in me, I had to find out more from my father before I made any rash decisions that could derail my life. My father is my only family, it’s going to take a lot more than a one-armed superhuman to evoke my individual revolution.

I was robotic in gathering my things from the hotel room, my mind swimming with different possible routes about confronting my father. I didn’t fully believe- or want to believe- Bucky’s words to me last night. My father _couldn’t_ be a part of this HYDRA entity. 

It did make sense though… I didn’t have any freedom… I’m technically being used by my father, but it’s not against my will. I’m using my own free will to do the things that I do… right? 

I changed my mind. _Nothing_ about this made sense. I loved doing something that I’m being forced into? Whether or not Bucky was telling the truth about HYDRA, he did invoke questions I deserved answers to. My question though was how exactly to confront my father about this without alerting him of my potential rebellion.

The Motel 6 was in my rearview at 6:30 am when the possible routes of confrontation started to form. 

Do I tell him I completed the mission so I could ask my questions straight away? Then intercept the team after I have my answers? What would I do if my father told me he was with HYDRA, or if he wasn’t? Do I want to stay his errand jockey for the rest of my life? Tony basically implied I could have a life with them outside of this one, would he stay true to his word if I came back? Would he still help me? I didn’t exactly show him that he could trust me...

Do I tell him I couldn’t complete the mission and face the consequences? I don’t even know what that would entail. Would he punish me? Send others in the entourage to try to finish the job? Did he know that Bucky was a superhuman? Why wouldn’t he tell me that? It’s like he was setting me up to fail, sending me unknowingly into an environment filled with multiple assassins. Was that on purpose? To test me? How did he expect me to come back from that, will he be expecting me home today? What if I show up and he’s surprised to see me, what if he sent me there to d-

I shook my head, o _kayyy,_ the anxiety-ridden rabbit hole was getting dangerously deep, let's not go down that route anymore. 

Every possible alternative I could think of had an unknown consequence. I simply didn’t have enough information to attempt to guess what was going to happen when I got to the facility. I’d have to do something my life forced me to be exceptionally good at.

Improvise. 

\----

When I pulled into the garage in the facility around 11:07 am, I was unsure which direction I wanted this conversation to go. Did I want my father to admit to being a part of HYDRA, or keep me in the dark? Did I want him to give me more freedom, or keep my life exactly the same? I liked the comfort and routine of my life, but did I want more?

I grabbed one of the rifles and the katana swords I had stashed in my car, strapping them to my back and thighs. As I took the elevator up to my father's floor from the garage, I could feel the foreign feeling of withdrawals again. My knees were slightly weak and my stomach felt slightly queasy. This brought on a whole new onslaught of questions; why didn’t he tell me he was giving me this super-serum? Why did he not want me knowing? 

My brow furrowed and I bit my bottom lip slightly as the elevator came to a stop and slowly opened up with a ding. 

Nothing could have prepared me for the sight in front of me. 

The dead bodies of my father's entourage were strewn across the room, blood pooling around half of them, the other half with their necks bent at impossible angles. In the middle of the room, my father was on his knees, hands clasped behind his hanging head, his right cheek split open. Behind him stood Bucky and the Captain, each with a hand on his forearm. _Bucky had an assault rifle strapped to his back and a knife at his hip, the Captain a shield._ Natasha and Sam were at his desk shuffling through the drawers, my father's laptop already in her hands. I noticed my green drink untouched on the corner of the desk. _Natasha had two small pistols at her hips and a knife at her thigh, her nose bruised and broken. Sam had his weaponized wings hanging behind him._ Tony hovered closely outside the now shattered large window, his entire body a weapon.

When their heads snapped up at the ding of the elevator, my mind went blank. The Shadow took over. 

Taking a step forward, I pulled the gun from my back and aimed it directly at Bucky’s forehead, squeezing the trigger in 2 quick successions. The Captain was faster, blocking each shot with his shield, so I turned on Natasha to find her already trained on me with one pistol, but she hesitated. I didn’t. I took three shots at her abdomen, but Sam already had his wings wrapped around her, effectively blocking my shots as he took off with her out the broken window towards Tony. I turned back to Bucky and The Captain, quick enough that he was just now lowering his shield, Bucky stepping out from behind with his own gun aimed at my forehead. 

He also hesitated to shoot. I didn’t. I sent 2 bullets to his forehead, but he raised his metal arm from his gun just in time to deflect them. The Captain took advantage of my gun trained on Bucky to throw his shield at me. I had to lower my gun to sidestep it, sending it crashing into the elevator behind me, leaving him defenseless. I raised my gun back up, about to send a bullet into his abdomen when a streak of white energy blew into my right thigh, immediately burning through the leg of my pants and top few layers of skin as it was swept out from under me. A scream ripped out of my throat and I dropped my gun, falling to my hands and left knee, the pain momentarily blinding. When I raised my head, the cool barrel of a gun pressed to my forehead and I stilled. 

I looked up at the owner of the gun and his pretty blue eyes met mine, full of so much remorse and regret, The Shadow facade almost broke. 

“Get him to the jet,” he exhaled to his team behind him. I looked over as Tony dropped to the ground, his mask lifted, his face stony and pale. I realized the white light came from his suit as he walked over to my father and hauled him off the ground. With one last look of anguish, he re-masked and took off towards the jet that was now hovering outside. The Captain walked behind me, his face impassive, and removed his shield from the elevator. He leaned over to Bucky and whispered, “take your time, we’ll be waiting,” before he glanced back at me and walked to the window. I looked back up at Bucky, tears spilling out at the new angle of my face.

“I thought you weren’t coming for another day,” I managed to croak out, the pain in my thigh radiating up into my torso. 

“Change of plans. I hoped we would be gone by the time you got here, I’m sorry Ryan,” his voice was rough with emotion, trying to conceal it from bleeding into his face. 

The jet outside pulled away, leaving me alone with my target. Pain catalyzed into deep and raging animosity that pooled in my abdomen. Heat expanded into my chest as more tears escaped, my teeth clenched together with a harsh snap as I unsheathed the sword on my left leg, yelling out as I slashed it through the air, aiming for his right oblique. He was faster, his metal hand crossing his abdomen to grab the sword mid-swipe. He ripped it from my grasp, throwing it behind him before grabbing the other sword at my right thigh. I grabbed his wrist when he made contact, but he pulled it away, forcing me fully to the ground as he threw my other sword away. 

I landed on my right side, my thigh slamming into the ground. Sobs ripped from my chest as he knelt down beside me, gun still trained on my forehead. The blast had cauterized my leg, but the fall split open a deep part of the wound, spilling blood from the gash. He quickly searched me for more weapons, finding none, and tossed the gun away, rolling me onto my back. He gripped my right shoulder with his left hand, his right landing above the wound on my thigh. 

“Is there a first aid kit in here?” He asked in a rush, but I answered with a screech of frustration as I threw my right palm up at his nose attempting to smash it into his brain. He caught it easily and pinned it down, so I kicked up with my left leg, trying to wrap it around his neck to force him to the ground but he caught it with his right hand, holding it up above his head. He forced the leg down and moved over me to straddle it, careful to not jostle my injured leg, and pinned both my arms to my sides. 

Even though I was the one immobilized, he was the one who looked defeated. 

“Ryan, please. You’re hurt. I just want to help you,” he pleaded. I could feel his breath on my face, the sudden closeness startling The Shadow into final resignation. More tears slid down my face and I attempted to regulate my breathing as the pain retreated down my right leg. I was growing weaker and my head rolled to the side remembering the green drink on the desk. Maybe it would dull the pain and weakness radiating through me.

He followed my gaze before turning back to me, “If I go grab the drink for you, are you going to try to kill me again?”

I stiffly shook my head, “I’ve already tried about 5 times, I don’t think I could manage another.”

He offered a small smile but still stood up and kicked away all the weapons that were scattered around us. Walking over to the desk, his eyes never left my sad, burned body on the ground. He came back and sat behind me, carefully lifting my torso up so my back was against his chest before he handed me the drink.

It was oddly… intimate. His chin was atop my head and his hands gently rubbed my upper arms, his metal one cold and his flesh one hot. As I brought the drink to my lips and sipped, immediate relief washed through me as the cool liquid ran down my throat. I couldn’t feel it making me stronger, but I felt the comfort of familiarity as I swallowed the sweet substance. 

“Please don’t break my nose, but is there a first aid kit in here? You’re still hurt,” he asked again, this time gaining a response instead of cartilage in his brain. I motioned to the bookcase spanning the left wall, 

“If you pull on East of Eden, the bookcase moves and there’s a bathroom with medical equipment.”

He slowly stood up from behind me, but he wrapped his right arm around my shoulders and shoved his left under my legs.

“Wha-”

I gasped and reddened as he effortlessly picked me up and carried me over to the bookcase. He accidentally jostled my right thigh and I had to bury my face in his chest to keep from screaming out. He winced and offered a small _sorry_ as he found the book and pulled on it, causing the wall to slide open, revealing the huge bathroom. 

There was one sink in the center of a large, black, granite countertop with deep cabinets underneath. He carefully sat me on the countertop and I leaned back into the mirror with my legs dangling off the edge. He knelt in front of me and searched through the cabinets, throwing a clean rag at me with a rough, “clean off the blood,” before looking for more supplies. 

I looked down at the mess that was now my thigh. It had stopped bleeding but the wound was at least 5 inches wide, stretching across my entire thigh. It wasn’t particularly deep, but the edges were completely blistered. It almost looked like the moon; circular, divoted, and rough. Not quite a 3rd-degree burn, but enough to warrant a possible doctor’s visit. I got the rag wet and slowly started wiping away the blood around it, careful not to disturb the blisters that Bucky had already irritated when he carried me over here. 

My face reddened again as he stood back up between my legs, his arms filled with gauze and blister cream and a _needle and thread_ , oh God. 

“Do you really think I need stitches?” Nervousness coated the words before I could attempt to cover them. Imagining the pain of stitching up a gash in the middle of a burn made me nauseous. 

“Maybe, I need to get a closer look at it. Here, gimme,” he grabbed the rag away and re-wet it with cool water. He hesitated before he glanced back up at me.

“I need to clean it out, this is going to hurt-”

“I know, just do it.”

He hesitated again before placing the cool compress directly on the burn. White-hot pain shot through every nerve ending connected to my thigh, the air leaving my lungs as I lurched forward, grabbing both of his shoulders roughly. My head fell onto my hand on his right shoulder as I dug my nails into the muscle, not even caring if I drew blood or hurt him. I didn’t- _couldn't_ breath as he cleaned the wound. After about 2 minutes,

“Ryan, you need to breathe, you’re going to pass out,” he said as I took a gasping, deep breath in. Pain tasted like copper on my tongue, angry and red and bitter. 

He tossed away the rag before gently grabbing my right thigh and unsheathing his knife.

“What the fuc-”

“Calm down, I don’t want to get your pants wet so I need to cut some of it away before we run your leg underwater.”

My face flushed as he took off my right shoe and bent down closer to my leg, starting to carefully cut away my pants. I looked up at the ceiling, embarrassed as all Hell. My hands would probably be shaking if they weren’t still situated on his shoulders. 

_“Watch it,”_ I hissed as his cold metal fingers grazed dangerously close to my crotch, sending a different type of heat up into my torso. I gave him a sharp _smack_ on the side of his head and to my surprise, he just blushed and muttered a quick sorry before he gave up on cutting the fabric and ripped the entire pant leg off me, rendering me with makeshift shorts on my right leg. 

He resheathed his knife before stepping away and I turned my body so my bare right leg was under the faucet. I gripped the handle and took a second to prepare myself. This was going to hurt like a _bitch_. I almost wished he hadn't moved away so I could at least hold on to something. 

_“Fuck,”_ I breathed out as the cool water flowed onto my leg, the sound almost a moan as I fell forward again before Bucky moved forward and steadied me. It was almost unbearable, tears spilled over as I bit down hard on my lower lip, my left hand gripping my unburned thigh so hard I drew blood from the little half-moon indentations from my nails. 

I didn’t notice his hesitation as he watched me suffering on the counter, I only felt him move, pulling himself up on the counter before placing himself behind me how he did when he fed me my green drink. I was fully sobbing now, his arms secure around my torso as his warm chest caged my back. My head fell to the side as I buried my face in his right shoulder, my tears wetting his shirt as I let go of my thigh and reattached it to his bicep, digging the nails in. 

He muttered little apologies and acknowledgments of my pain in my ear as I let the water flow over my burn for a few minutes, before the pain began to slowly subside, along with my energy. I might have blacked out, because the next thing I knew, Bucky was wrapping my wound in gauze and carrying me to the other side of the room. He opened the door to my father’s bedroom, a room I had never been in, and carefully placed me on the king-size bed. 

The last thing I remembered was sheets being laid over me, a small caress of my arm, and the coolness of metal on my cheek before I fell into a deep, black, dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine the time it took from her taking her first shot, to bucky putting the gun to her head only being 5 seconds. that's how quick she is. I LOVE HER.


	7. Chapter 7

Softness enveloped me. My head laying on a too hard pillow, my body stiff and weak. A deep ache penetrated my right thigh. The smell of my father’s musky shampoo. Silky blankets wrapped around my torso. Darkness bleeding under my eyelids. 

I woke slowly, feeling every muscle in my body protest as I sat up, unaware of what time it was or where I was. Everything seemed unfamiliar as I peered around the room. I think I was in my father’s bedroom? He usually didn’t allow me in here. How did I end up in here-

The day’s events slammed into my chest with surprising force as I recounted every moment. 

The _Avengers_ were in my _house_ and they took my father.  
I was injured and Bucky took care of me.  
I was overpowered so _easily._

It was difficult to breathe as I tore the blankets off me and stood up, only to fall to my knee as the injury in my right thigh made itself known with a fiery reminder. A low groan left my lips as I forced myself up towards the window, throwing the curtains open. It was nighttime. I checked my watch, 7:32 pm. God _damnit._ What if they’ve already killed my father? What if I'm too late to save him? What exactly were they going to do with him?

I knew I needed to act fast as I hurried to the bathroom, searching for anything to help with the pain in my leg. I found a syringe with **Lidocaine** stamped on it. Perfect. Gritting my teeth, I tore off the packaging and the gauze from my thigh and brought the needle down, sucking in a deep breath as I stabbed it into the wound and pushed in the medicine. 

Air hissed through my teeth as the initial pain slowly turned to numbness. I shook out my thigh, feeling nothing, as I left the bathroom. The numbness began seeping down to my foot as I stepped into the elevator and steadied my breathing as it lowered to my room. I had to be prepared for what was going to walk into. 

The Avengers were not like the people I’ve taken out before. They were trained either as well, or better than I was. They had superhuman powers. They were superior beings. I thought back to my green drink. Bruce said that it wasn’t as potent as the one Bucky and the Captain had running through their systems, so did I just have to take more to be like them?

The thought piqued my interest. What if I drank more or found more serum and took all of it? Could I become superhuman like them, even if just for a short while? For long enough to rescue my father? That sentiment secured my next few actions. 

I rushed into my room, quickly changing into new pants. This time, I opted for baggier ones to hide more weapons in and underneath. I opened my weapons wall and began grabbing whatever I could carry. I stashed 4 throwing stars in my pockets and two daggers to my thighs. I kept the tight black long sleeve but sheathed a shorter dagger to my right bicep and threw on a black jacket. I threw on black boots that shot out short blades if I clicked the heels together, and put more sticky gloves into my jacket pockets. 

A black utility belt found my waist and I grabbed two silenced pistols to store there. The case where I kept my prized green dagger was empty and my chest tightened. They took it from me, and I’d do anything to get it back. If Sam was the one who had it… I’d make sure he suffered.

Once I was weaponized, I had to find where my father held the green drinks for me. I figured the kitchen would be a safe first place to try. 

The elevator moved too slowly as I rode down to the kitchen. It was going to take 5 hours to get to the tower and by then, my father could already be dead. I couldn’t take his chopper as it would immediately alert the Avengers I was there. I had to drive. My face contorted into a grimace as I imagined what they could be doing to my father as the elevator doors opened into the large living area where the kitchen was located. 

I ran to the fridge, throwing it open to find 3 bottled green drinks. I grabbed each one but figured he had to have the actual serum stashed somewhere else. If it was as powerful a liquid as Bruce had said, he’d have to have it stored in a safe, private place. Maybe that hidden floor under the garage? I wasn’t allowed down there as my father said whatever they did down there didn’t concern me. 

It concerned me now. 

I ran back to the elevator and pried back a panel that hid a button that would take me lower than the parking garage. I cracked open one of the green drinks and chugged it, finishing it by the time the elevator doors dinged open. The juice almost came back up when I faced an all too familiar sight.

Harsh coldness cascaded over me as fluorescent lights illuminated a dozen bodies in white coats strewn across the floor, dead with foam seeping from their mouths. There were 4 medical cots, each with a person strapped down, a bullet hole stamped between their eyes. Each body had multiple IVs protruding from their arms, and their eyes were still open as they laid still. 

I didn’t move as my eyes scanned the entire room. Everyone in the room was dead, soaking the air with a darkness that had nothing to do with the black interior. It looked like a dungeon with black stone walls and black tile flooring. There was medical equipment _everywhere,_ and the room was freezing as I put down my drinks and willed my legs to take a single step out of the elevator. 

I glanced down at the body closest to me. The foam seeping out of her mouth had to be from a cyanide pill. These people weren’t murdered, they took their own lives. But why? Did my father tell them to? What were they doing down here? My gaze swept up to the man lying on one of the cots, a bullet hole between his lifeless eyes. 

He had dark blond hair, and a soft jawline, with pale green eyes. His body was extremely muscular, dressed in a black tank top and black cotton shorts. If he were alive, he’d be freezing. His hands were rough and calloused, and his knuckles were… bruised? I looked a little closer at his face and noticed a faint bruise on his right cheekbone, and a scar on his lip that looked like it had just healed over. 

I glanced at each of the other bodies in the cots and noticed they all had similar fighting bruises on their knuckles and faces. Did these doctors abuse their patients? I looked back down at the doctor at my feet and didn’t see any sort of offensive or defensive wounds, so did these patients fight each other? 

As I looked back up at the bodies in the cots, a room in the back of the lab caught my eye. I carefully stepped over the bodies littering the floor and walked towards it to find a square room encased in glass. It was completely bare, except for a few small stains on the floor which I quickly realized was blood. On one of the walls on the inside, I noticed a small board with writing on it. The numbers were smeared and rough like they had been erased and written over a few times. 

1 vs 2: 1-1  
1 vs 3: 2-0  
1 vs 4: 2-0

2 vs 1: 1-1  
2 vs 3: 2-0  
2 vs 4: 2-0

3 vs 1: 0-2  
3 vs 2: 0-2  
3 vs 4: 1-1

4 vs 1: 0-2  
4 vs 2: 0-2  
4 vs 3: 1-1

I tore my eyes away from the board to look at the patients again to notice each body had a small number tattooed on their bicep. One and Two were both women, and Three and Four were men. It looks like they _did_ fight each other. Interesting. I quickly noticed that the women would always beat the men, but if the same gender fought each other, they were an even match.

The women both had similar body types to me, slender but strong, tall but not gangly. Very proportional. And the men were built similar to Bucky and the Captain, very strong and muscular, with broad shoulders and slim waists. 

One was a brunette like me but had tan skin with no freckles, her eyes a lifeless, deep brown. Two had red hair with freckles splattered across her face, her eyes dark blue. Three was the dark blond man with green eyes, and Four was a dark-skinned man with light, amber-colored eyes. Each had a line of blood trailing from the bullet hole down their necks. 

At the foot of each bed, there was a file with each of their numbers printed on them. I grabbed number One’s file and flipped it open. 

**Number One: Maria Raun  
Ethnicity: Hispanic  
Height: 5’7  
Weight: 135  
Description: Most reliable, predictable. Best at hand-to-hand combat. Deadly with katana swords. Low pain tolerance. Loyal to Number Three. Best with lower body, strongest legs. Responds best to negative reinforcement (electroshock).  
Vial Amount: 5 **

Vial amount? I grabbed the remaining files and flipped through them. 

**Number Two: Emily Dendra  
Ethnicity: Caucasian  
Height: 5’6  
Weight: 125  
Description: Quickest, unpredictable. Weapons expert, specifically long-range. Patient. Finds and exploits weaknesses in each fight. Stealthy. Dangerous, uncontrolled hand-to-hand combat level, injured Dr. Wallace and Dr. Juno. Responds to intense negative reinforcement, high pain tolerance.  
Vial Amount: 5 **

**Number Three: Taylor Greene  
Ethnicity: Caucasian  
Height: 6’1  
Weight: 205  
Description: Unpredictable, unreliable. Angry, fights the hardest. Aggression fuels hand-to-hand combat, strongest fighter. Never yields unless stopped by Doctor. Loyal to Number One. Short-range weapons expert, deals the most damage. High pain tolerance. Doesn’t respond well to positive or negative reinforcement.  
Vial Amount: 3 **

**Number Four: David Luna  
Ethnicity: African American  
Height: 6’2  
Weight: 195  
Description: Smart, reliable. Cunning, has to be watched closely, has almost escaped twice. Medic/mechanical expert. Never full attacks, does not rely on strength, but strategy. Exploits weak points. Cool and collected, dangerous. Low pain tolerance. Responds to negative reinforcement.  
Vial Amount: 3 **

My blood boiled as I read each file. Shot in cold blood. The doctors on the ground must have taken them by surprise. But why would they kill them? Why was everyone in this room dead? Did my father order them all to die when the Avengers showed up? Was this a secret he didn’t want getting out? That he was training soldiers? Why did he need them if he had me?

As my mind raced, a quiet beep sounded in my right ear. I jerked my head to the side, hand raising to my gun as I saw a small fridge under a countertop with its door slightly ajar. I released my gun and slipped over to the fridge, kicking it open with my foot. Inside there were dozens of little vials numbered One, Two, Three, and Four. 

Was this super serum? Was my father giving it to them as well? It made sense, I didn’t understand how these women were overpowering the men. I looked closer at each vial, picking up one labeled Two. On the side, it read:

_Single use only. Each vial lasts 10-12 hours. Multiple injections increase effects. Intravenous injection only._

She seemed the most similar to me, so if this was super serum, hopefully it would affect me in the same way. If she was injected 5 times and was able to take down those men, it would take at least that much to take down all of the Avengers. 

I stopped myself. Taking down all of the Avengers? That feat seemed impossible… Is that what I wanted to do? Go in, guns blazing, and take down each person? My brow furrowed as I thought back to what Bucky told me in the hotel room. 

_We know he’s involved with HYDRA. They believe mankind can’t be trusted with their own freedom, so authoritarianism is pretty much their mission statement. You remember the Nazis? Yeah, primarily HYDRA._

I realized my urgency had cooled off as soon as the elevator doors opened, showing me the gruesome scene. Something felt _off._ Too many things now pointed at my father being… the bad guy in this narrative. I looked back at the files and noticed the insignia stamped in the corner of each page. It was a skull with six tentacles sprouting from the bottom. That really looked sinister. Was this HYDRA? Was my father attempting to train super soldiers like Bucky and the Captain? Were the people I assassinated... innocent? 

I shook my head of the thoughts, my chest heating up with anxiety. I couldn’t get into the morality of those kills right now. I needed to find my father, retrace my thoughts, and ask him the questions I needed answered when I showed up here earlier today.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what's ryan gonna DOOOOOOO


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 for 1 deal today! :)

The drive to New York was quiet as I willed my brain to silence itself about my father. Too many conclusions were blinding my ability to think logically. I was 30 minutes away from the tower, and I knew they'd be waiting for me to arrive. My options for entering the tower were limited. 

I could enter through the front door, and be potentially met by dozens of armed guards, ready to take me into custody. 

I could scale the building with my sticky gloves and enter through the hole Tony blasted through the wall, but that was dangerous and potentially life-threatening if my sticky gloves failed.

I could go up to the roof of the building I attempted to snipe Bucky from, and leap off, hopefully crashing through a lower level window. The serum could potentially break my fall and I’d survive and at least be inside the building if they were alerted of my presence. 

There weren’t any other feasible options I could think of. As of now, the only one that held the slimmest chance of me being captured was scaling the wall up to the hole. But that was 48 stories high… could I manage to climb that high without being spotted? Do they have sensors on the outside of the buildings?

I cursed to myself. 10 minutes away and I still didn’t have a plan of action. I pressed harder on the gas, willing the car to go faster as the vials of super serum weighed heavy in my pocket. 

When I parked a few blocks away, it was close to 1 am. City lights lit up the sidewalk, but thankfully, not a soul was wandering around. I cracked my neck from side to side and reached into the glove compartment of my car, grabbing my mask and my charcoal. I had to become invisible again if I was going to attempt to sneak up on the Avengers. 

The vials clinked in my pocket as I put on my mask and smeared the charcoal on my face, reminding me of the risk I was about to take by injecting the serum. I didn’t know what kind of reaction I was going to have, I’ve only consumed a limited amount at a time, and didn’t even know how much. Was there a vial in each drink? Two? Half a vial? The heat of anxiety started to creep in again as I pulled a clean syringe out of the small backpack on the passenger seat. 

I drew the entire contents of a vial into the needle and pulled my sleeve up to my bicep. The tightness of my sleeve acted as a tourniquet, and my vein popped up against my pale skin. I could see the slight pulse as I lightly pressed the needle to my skin. I hesitated for a moment before piercing my skin, the initial sharp pain causing me to gasp. 

As I pressed down the plunger and the serum seeped into my bloodstream, I only had a moment of peace before hot, slicing pain erupted throughout my arm, following the serum as it spread throughout my entire body. I started to panic as it immediately flowed down to my injured thigh, a white-hot pain bursting into the burn. Right when I was about to lose control and scream, the pain began to subside, and the slicing pain turned into a dull ache before it eventually faded completely away. 

What the fuck just happened? In a rush, I unzipped my pants and tore them down along with the gauze around my wound, and gasped in amazement. The wound was gone, except for slight discoloration where the burn used to be. I touched it, feeling nothing but my own, now scarred, skin. I didn’t move for a few seconds until my head cocked to one side as a light lit up a window a few stories above me. 

I slowly turned towards it, seeing a person in the window. They slid it open and sat out on the window sill before they lit a cigarette. I could hear the burn of the paper as they took a long drag- 

Wait. They were at least 5 stories above me. I should _not_ be able to hear them take a drag from that far away… Did the serum really just heal my leg and give me super hearing? One vial did that? 

My heart beat a little faster as I yanked my pants back up and hastily took out another vial and repeated the process, this time not hesitating to plunge the needle into my vein. As the serum entered my system for a second time, I braced myself for the pain, but it never came. All I felt was my body getting slightly warmer like I had a low-grade fever.

I closed my eyes for a moment, allowing myself to track the warm serum through my veins. I rolled my shoulders back into my seat and listened as I could hear everything that was going on around me, even though there was nothing around to hear. I heard the person snuffing out their cigarette as they turned back into their apartment. I heard my car slightly humming as it cooled off from the drive. I heard my own heartbeat in my ears and could feel the blood running up and down my fingers and toes.

When I opened my eyes, I was shocked at what I could see. I already had perfect vision, but now I could see everything through the dark. I could read a sign 100 yards away. I could see the homeless person crouched in the dark that I couldn't see before. I could see and hear _everything._ And only after 2 vials? Those women had 5 running through their systems, what were they capable of? 

A light sheen of sweat was coating my skin now, and I knew my body was having trouble keeping up with this much serum. My heart was a dull thud in my ears and my hands were tingling. I looked at my eyes in the rearview mirror, and my pupils were completely blown. Okay… probably shouldn't inject another vial unless I need to. I shoved the other 3 vials and the syringe into my backpack and strapped it on my back.

I checked the time, 1:12 am, and decided to take the most dangerous, but least risky route. 

I was going to scale the building. 

When I stepped out of the car, I almost faltered at the feeling in my body. I felt _powerful_ and so fucking _strong_ as I started jogging to the tower. There was no resistance in my lungs or legs as I pumped harder, sprinting to where my father was held captive. It was like nothing I had felt before. I used to be confident, but now unfiltered _cockiness_ bled into my system as I pulled on the sticky gloves. The tower was now in sight as I took in all its angles. 

I could scale up the windows in the front, the gloves will stick better to glass and have less chance of failing, but they’d spot me easier through it. 

I could scale up on one of the corners of the building, but the angles are all wrong and I’d have to use mostly arms to haul myself up. 

Or, I could scale up the back, and go directly to the hole in the wall. There would probably be people guarding it, but they wouldn’t expect me to go directly to the source. 

I allowed my instincts to take over as I neared the building. The strength radiating throughout my body was almost dizzying as I lept off the ground, soaring 30 feet into the air before latching onto the side of the building. I hit the wall with an _oof,_ my gloves securing themselves as I could feel the slight vibrations from my jump against my body. I waited. Listened for any sense of alarm or trigger to go off inside the building.

Nothing. 

Arrogance bled into a laugh as I let my arms and body go slack against the building, before launching myself up, latching on about 20 feet higher than I was. I imagined I looked like a frog and my grin grew wider. I allowed myself to glance down to the ground, my stomach dropping only slightly before I tore my eyes away and kept leaping up, and up, and up, until my last leap when one of my gloves failed. 

A scream ripped through my throat before I could stop it. My right hand landed on, oh God, _bird shit,_ and the stickiness couldn't penetrate through, leaving me dangling by just my left hand. I tried to slap my right hand below the bird shit, but the glove was too dirty now. The stickiness had failed and I could feel the slight give of my left glove as my weight threatened to send me falling 500 feet to my probable death. I kicked my heels together and two small knives poked out of my boots, allowing me to kick them into the side of the concrete wall, taking some stress off my left glove. 

For a moment, I pressed my cheek and ear to the wall to see if I heard an alarm or a person running towards my scream. I waited and waited. 

Nothing.

I peered up and saw the hole above me to my right by about 20 feet. If there was anyone guarding it, they would’ve surely heard me scream and sounded an alarm. I took a few deep, slow breaths before I grabbed my right glove between my teeth and ripped it off, sending it floating down to the street. My hand splayed out against the cool concrete as I weighed my options. 

I could swing my body from side to side, and throw myself up as far as I could to get myself as close to the hole as possible.

I could try to keep scaling the wall the rest of the 20 feet.

I could… Yeah, okay. 

I decided the latter was the safest option, and gripped the wall with my ungloved hand before unsticking, and reaching up with my left as high as I could. I stuck it, and walked both feet up, kicking into the wall with the knives and hauling myself up, little by little. 

The filtered air wafted over me as I was inches away from the top. My right hand reached up, I pushed off my left foot, and the knife _broke._ Everything moved in slow motion. I was falling one second, and the next my hand was coming down hard on the ledge, crashing through the concrete and latching on like it was soft. I hauled myself up and threw myself over the ledge.

I fell flat on my back, my heart beating out of my chest, a scream etched in my throat, unable to move. I could feel the vials digging into my back. I think I was in shock? I almost fell 500 feet. I couldn’t breathe. 

I slowly looked to where my right hand gripped the wall and there was an imprint of the shape of my hand in the concrete. Did I really just grip the concrete like it was dirt? Was I really that strong? Holy shit. I looked down at my hand and my nails were all lifted from my fingertips. Blood started to drip from each of them before that hot, slicing feeling returned and the nails reattached themselves to my fingertips, effectively healed. 

Jesus Christ. 

I shook my hand out and slowly stood up and looked around. It took me a second to realize FRIDAY probably knew I was here, why hadn’t she sounded an alarm?

In no more than a whisper, I said,

“FRIDAY?” For a beat, nothing answered, before,

“Yes, Ryan?” Oh my God.

“You know I’m here?”

“Yes.”

“Why haven’t you triggered an alarm?”

“Mr. Stark told me if you managed to find your way in, not to sound the alarm.”

“Right… how do I know they’re not coming to kill me right now?”

“Because they’re still interrogating your father.” 

Holy shit. “Where can I find them?”

“I’ll lead you, just follow the lights.”

The stairs lit up as I began to follow them up. 

“Can you… not tell them I’m here? I don’t want them to know until _I_ want them to know.”

“Of course, Ryan.”

I followed FRIDAY’s lights for a few minutes, taking a few rights and lefts, and going up and down some stairs. I tried to keep track in case I needed a quick escape, but it was too confusing and I was too on edge about seeing my father.

I still hadn’t made any decisions about how I felt about him. About whether or not he was actually the bad guy. I wanted to watch the Avengers interrogate him to see the real him. To see unfiltered him. 

As I rounded a corner, a door appeared in front of me. 

“Through that door is a large room. Mr. Stark, Sergeant Barnes, and Captain Rogers are talking to your father now. They won’t hear when you enter.”

I muttered a small thanks before quietly entering the room, silently shutting the door behind me. 

The room was _huge,_ I would guess 100 square feet. It was modeled weird, cascading down about 20 feet below where I stood, with 10 rows of chairs leading down to what looked like a stage. The only light came from above my head; a spotlight illuminating my father, wrists bound behind him and ankles bound to each leg of a chair. It almost looked like a theatre?

The three men stood in front of my father, facing away from me. I slid into a chair on my right, completely hidden by darkness as I waited for them to speak. Tony spoke first.

“Jonathan, we’ve been at this for hours and you’ve only given us useless information about your weapons systems and I don’t give a shit about that. We know your company is a front for HYDRA, we know you have the serum because of Ryan, we just need to know what else you’re doing with it.”

Nothing. 

Tony nodded towards the Captain and he stepped forward, gripping the back of my father’s chair, tipping it to its back legs. I noticed Tony’s hand was in a cast and I cringed. My father’s head lolled back as he was forced to look up at Tony who stood inches from him.

“We know you’ve been drugging her with super serum, why would you send her here with such a little amount in her system? She could have died from withdrawals if our doctor didn’t help, why would you send her here to die Jonathan?”

Nothing. I could have died? 

“She escaped from us, you know. When we took you from your facility, she was in the room. You don't remember because you were knocked, but she put up quite a fight. I did injure her though,” I expected a reaction from my father but he showed nothing again, “I shot her in the leg. Our sergeant over there patched her up, but she’s probably in a world of hurt right now-”

“Why are you talking about her?” My father’s deep voice rang out with indifference.

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Figured you would want to know that I gravely injured your daughter and left her for-”

“I don’t give a shit what you did to her.”

Tony let out a scoff as my heart skipped a beat. He didn’t care?

“You don’t give a shit? Dude, she’s your daughter what do you mean-”

“She’s _not_ my daughter, so I don’t give a shit. One of my bodyguards had a kid, he and his wife died on a mission I sent them on, so I took her in. I trained her and used her for protection, but she's disposable. She’s only around because she’s been able to survive for this long. I drug her to keep her compliant.”

“Keep her… compliant?”

“Yep. I give her an altered version of the drug that keeps her cooperative. She does whatever I tell her, like a well-trained _dog._ ”

I heard Bucky let out a low sound, deep in his chest as my father- as _he_ said those words. I felt like I had just been slapped. Just been hit by a train. Just been _shot._ He’s not my father? He didn’t care about me? I was nothing to him? I was drugged to be _compliant?_ I didn’t know what to focus on, my mind was spiraling out of control. 

“I sent her after you,” he motioned to Bucky, “because I figured you’d kill her, notorious Winter Soldier, but you apparently _didn’t.”_ He seethed. His words tore into my skin, shredding whatever loyalty I had left for him. 

Bucky stood up and stalked over to him, grabbing his throat with his metal hand, squeezing hard enough I could see blood vessels burst in his eyes. 

“She's just another body at my disposal,” he wheezed out, “but it looks like you’ve taken a liking to her, did you get to play with her while you held her captive, she’s _really_ grown into herself-”

One moment the man was talking, and the next he was thrown across the room, the chair exploding under him as he crashed 10 feet away from the interrogation, unmoving. 

“Bucky!” The Captain yelled out as he ran over to Jonathan, checking his pulse. Bucky and Tony stood motionless, staring at each other, chests heaving. 

“I’m not mad you did that,” Tony breathed out.

“Good, because I’ll break his neck next time,” Bucky growled out. As he turned away from the interrogation area, I ducked down between the seats. 

“Great, he’s out cold again,” the Captain spat out angrily, “why did you do that Buck, he was actually talking?” 

“Steve, did you hear what he was saying about Ryan? He’s a sick fuck who deserves whatever’s coming for him.”

“I know, but still… we need to know what else he’s doing with the serum, if he’s creating another army like HYDRA did a couple of years ago, we need-”

I stood up, intentionally making noise as both Bucky and the Captain’s heads snapped in my direction with surprise, Tony’s a second later. I slowly stepped out from the seats, making myself seen on my way down to them, my eyes never leaving Jonathan’s body. I was taking my mask off when Tony spoke up,

“Hey kid, I hoped you’d be here by now. How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” 

Tony winced as he walked over to meet me, “you couldn’t have known he wasn’t your father-”

“He had a small army.” I silenced him. I didn’t want to talk about my relationship with _Jonathan_ right now. “There were four people in a lab he had underneath his facility, but they were all dead when I got there.” 

As I spoke, I could feel my body itch with anxiety, like I was betraying Jonathan with every word I said. But that man wasn’t my father anymore. I didn’t have to comply with him. I no longer had to serve him. I could have the freedom I desired. 

Right? Was I allowed that now? Could I just turn my back on the man who raised me? Turn against everything I was taught as a child? It was unfamiliar and scary. It went against everything I knew. 

Despite the itch, I kept going, “they were shot in the head by the doctors in the lab. And the doctors killed themselves with cyanide pills. On their folders, there was an insignia with a skull and six tentacles, is that HYDRA?” They all nodded. 

I took the vials out of my backpack and handed them to Tony when I approached the men. 

“They were all being injected with the stuff in these vials,” I said as I let my eyes drift away from Jonathan's body to find Bucky and the Captain staring at me with unease.

“What?”

“Uh… your pupils. Are you okay?” The Captain asked me. I cocked my head, confused, and then remembered my pupils were probably still blown from the serum.

“Oh, yea. I injected myself with two of them,” Tony’s head snapped up, immediately walking towards me and pressing the back of his hand to my forehead before I could flinch away. 

“Kid you’re _burning_ up, we need to get you to Bruce,” he let his hand fall to his side, muttering to himself as he read more of the fine print on the bottle. The Captain moved towards me, and before I could tell myself not to react, my hands shot out to his chest and pushed him away, sending him flying 20 feet back onto the stage, his back hitting the wall with a grunt. 

I froze. Whoa. I just knocked a superhuman on his ass. 

Bucky’s laughter brought me out of my state. I turned to him, arms outstretched, still shocked, as he was doubled over, his hand on Tony’s shoulder for support. 

“ _Ryan,_ oh my God, you just pushed him like _20 feet,_ what the hell is in those vials?” he managed to croak out between laughs. I looked at Tony, his jaw on the floor, and the Captain, with the same expression on his face as he stood up and started walking back over to me. 

“Wow… Bucky can’t even do that to me… Tony, can I take her to the ring before you take her to Bruce, I wanna see what she can _really_ do,” The Captain said as he met my gaze with a small smile on his face, the gesture slightly loosening the tension in my shoulders. 

As I glanced back to Jonathan, Bucky moved towards me. I didn’t push him away as he slung his metal arm over my shoulder, the coolness on my skin sending goosebumps down my arms. 

“Alright Ryan, let’s get this black shit off your face again. Then we’ll take you to Bruce.”


End file.
